


Tattoo

by Cerfblanc



Series: The Mental Pressure of Failure [4]
Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Bad Jokes, Brotherly Love, Coming of Age, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Tattoos, stick and pokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 04:00:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12548364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerfblanc/pseuds/Cerfblanc
Summary: Nathan tattoos Sam’s neck—well, he tries to.





	Tattoo

_**Year 1989** _

 

“I don’t think you’re doing it right.”

“Yeah…me neither.”

I feel like kissing my brother when he’s literally inches away from my lips. I can feel his light breath hit the side my neck every second he tries to gently poke the tattoo needle into my skin, but I can feel it’s not working.

“Can you make the skin taut?” Nathan says. His piano fingers brush my throat and I swallow.

“Yeah.” I say, and do what he tells me. It doesn’t help at all. “Ow.”

“Sorry.”

“I know you don’t mean it.”

“Oh, I do. I’m a _sadist_.”

“You should’ve told me sooner so you can give me some tips.” I chuckle and he tells me to stop moving, and he pokes me again, a few times. He dips the needle into more ink.

“You should be an artist.” I say, and he snorts.

“That’s probably the most mature thing you’ve suggested to me.”

“What, you don’t want to be one?”

“Well…I don’t know. I like drawing. And I like reading. You like sex and tattoos and girls. And cigarettes. There’s a big difference.”

“I like you.” I say, but he ignores me.

“You’re gay if you like me.”

“We should get married, y’know.”

“Sure.” He says. His voice is flat.

“Like…we should have a _sympathy_ _marriage_.”

He lifts his eyes to me, and I know I’ve pushed his buttons. He looks provoked. Like a wild animal. Like a little parakeet that’s ready to nibble my ear off. He’s cute when he gets pissed. I shouldn’t have said that. He’s holding a sharp needle. I’m gonna die.

I grin and whisper, “I’ll be your masochist.” Just to fuck with him. He stabs at my neck again, and I let out a hiss, but I try to sound sexy, and it doesn’t work, and then he starts laughing, and then I start laughing too.

After a few more pokes he lets me go, and I look in the mirror to see his work. My skin is slightly sore, a little pink around the edges of the dots of ink, but no blood. It looked good.

I ask if I look attractive with it, and he calls me a dork.


End file.
